Something in the way of explanation, belated

A plowed field with little puddles in the furrows that overtop their banks, reminders of the deluge a week past. Like a memory of it but not the real thing. Sad in their way of reminding us of what's gone and can't come back.

An older man walking down a concrete path to his car in the company lot. Weathered blue jacket and work pants, he drives home to an empty house, falls asleep alone to wake tomorrow and go to work again.

The way the light falls on the train approaching sunset, slightly dulled yellow-orange, passes over it and makes shadows on the other side.

Empty streets in the dusk where no one goes. Open doors left open unattended and broken windows uncared for.

The open expanse of the harbor at Lynn, blue-black and soulless, looks like it goes on forever.

These things I saw from my window. They were sad, but didn't sadden me.

Pens that won't run out of ink, and cool quiet and time to think

I was thinking recently about how we are constantly stimulated wherever we go. It seems to me this leaves little room in the mind for our own thoughts. Where does your mind go when it is constantly under assault by a thousand different kinds of media. Print ads on the subway, iPods in your ears, television at home, podcasts during work hours, even something as innocent as a book or magazine to read on the bus ride. To me, it all seems to be taking away from the time we have on our own, to think, to consider deeply.

On Friday evening I had something hopeful on my mind that I wanted to think about. What I realized, though, was that in my normal routine, I don't really have any time to consider things. I'm often in a hurry, and I'm almost always being stimulated by something exterior to my brain. I had to turn off the TV, and the music, and the lights to even have a chance to process the thoughts I had wanted to process. I was completely surprised by the fact that in my normal day, I don't really have time to think things over. I hadn't budgeted my time for that, and I wasn't even aware of it.

It seems to me that we often lose sight of how much stimulation we are forcing our minds to endure. It's important to think about stuff! Give yourself some time, unstimulated, to go over everything that's happened to you thus far, and consider everything that will happen. It's a lark! It's also something that is essentially human, and that we need to be sure not to lose.

That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Break out the red pantsuits: it's State of the Union time!

-How can you sell a wildly unnecessary punctuation mark? I really wish this was a sick joke, but as far as I know, it's not

-Say what you want about him, but Adam Carolla is a funny man, and a talented talker

-I measure my workouts in sweat, and little else

-Seems that more often than not, the anticipation's better than the real thing

-Being able to make a living from writing seems a long way from here

-A lot of people couldn't support themselves on the money I make now, or even twice the money I make now. I guess it's easier when you're young. You don't have a life's worth of obligations to pay for. Children, mortgages, new cars, medicine, it all adds up

-It must be some kind of natural instinct for people to always find something to complain about. You couldn't find a person in the world who doesn't have a complaint. Just ask Tiger Woods

-People want Barack Obama to fix the country with a snap of his fingers. That expectation may be partly his fault due to the message he campaigned on, but still, it's not that easy, for anyone, even Barack Obama. Give the guy some time for Pete's sake! The only person who got less time than Obama was Conan O'Brien

-One of my number one priorities for the rest of my life is to never have to take prescription drugs

-As far as going to the gym goes, I am firmly on the wagon. I could see myself hitting a wall in the next month or so, but right now, it's smooth sailing

-Beware the escape-goat!

-Yes it's the T's fault for running inefficiently and slowly, but it's also your own fault for not leaving a healthy margin of T error-time

-Barack is delivering one heck of a speech tonight

It's a question of scope, how far you're willing to go

The thing is, this is in no way the end of the world. It simply isn't. So a Republican who ran a strong campaign focused on connecting with the voters won the election against a Democrat who seemed cold and distant and may have taken her victory for granted. Stop the presses! This stuff happens every day, and you really think your world will come crashing down around you because, horror of horrors, Massachusetts elected a Republican and the Democrats only have a 59-vote majority? Please, get over it.

I'm a little bit disappointed in Massachusetts tonight, but then again, I can't help but feel this nagging sense of pride. We don't do what people want us to do. We do what we like, and forget the consequences.
Massachusetts people are pretty cynical. I don't know that Scott Brown was necessarily someone that everyone in MA could get behind, and a real feel-good story, as he was made out to be in some circles. It's more like everyone was collectively trying to stick it to the man. Everybody loves the proverbial 'Washington outsider.' Everybody hates the perceived elitist (pronounced Coakley). People in MA wanted to say, hey you thought this was a solid Democrat state? You thought Coakley could coast, you thought we would do your bidding and return another Dem to fill Kennedy's seat? Think again! We're Massachusetts, we're independent, and we'll elect a Republican just because we can!

I'm not saying it's right, I'm not saying Scott Brown is the greatest thing since sliced bread, I'm just saying that's how I see it. And if any good could come out of this, I can only hope it would be that the Democrats will finally have the balls to take some action and get something done before their majority, whether it's 60 votes or 51, is gone for good.

doublethink

The amount of information that google can and does collect about users of its services is staggering and frightening. I don't mean to scare you, o estimable reader, but through the magic of google Analytics I can find out what city you live in, what Internet browser and Operating system you use, and what language your computer is set to. Big Brother, anyone?

I'm not really making any comment, just putting it out there. I know far too much about who may be reading these very words. Spooky.

If there were an All-Madden team for name-dropping gourmands, I tell ya, you'd be on it

Isn't Thanksgiving really about overeating, after all?

As a red-blooded American, I was worried, as anyone would be, that I wouldn't be able to overeat to my heart's content in Canada.

I was wrong. There was more than enough food, and I ate more than enough of it. And it was great. It always is. Am I supposed to apologize for eating too much? It was delicious. I'm sorry that there are people who don't have enough to eat. I would like to help them. But at Thanksgiving, you stuff yourself. It's what's done. I can't turn the tide back from the shore, and I can't help but eat too much at Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving. Feel free to stuff yourself. And give some thanks.

Thanks.

My thoughts betray me

It strikes me that having the letter x twice in a name where it only belongs once betrays a lack of class. People who add the second x by choice are telegraphing their urgent need to get your attention. If they can't get your attention because of their talent, why not try a gimmick like adding a ridiculous second x to a name? If I see the second x, I assume low-rent, low-class.

Alexx Woods

Bubba Sparxxx

Alexxis Tyler

The only exception is Jimmie Foxx, who was a solid hitter, and who clearly didn't choose to add the second x.

musing

Hear cars swooping by on Harvard Ave. Feel tennis soreness in the right tricep from hitting wicked forehand winners yesterday. Perceive cool breeze of a Boston September night. Decompress and rest feet from standing all day.


Let it go.

4th July

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;
Or close the wall up with our English dead.
In peace there's nothing so becomes a man
As modest stillness and humility:
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tiger;
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage;
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;
Let pry through the portage of the head
Like the brass cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm it
As fearfully as doth a galled rock

So smooth it gets into any party.

Excuses are a Yankee fan's best friend.

the lie becomes the truth

Here's my idea for a much better way to cover the sad death today of Michael Jackson.


Silence.

Let's declare a moratorium on covering this story for three days. We can all have some quiet time to think about what Michael Jackson meant as a public figure, and as a person. Then we can come back in a few days and talk about it intelligently and coherently. Wouldn't that be much better than just tearing the story to shreds right now and speculating for hours on end about how and why he died? There's just so little to report here. The cable news channels will do what they always seem to do, which is have the hosts interview guests who really don't know anything that the hosts don't, so they pretty much just make stuff up. Meanwhile, an endless loop of file footage is playing, basically reducing the television medium to a dressed-up version of radio. Thanks, but no thanks.

I can commemorate Jackson myself by reflective meditation on his life and music. I don't need to be told how I should think by television hosts and commentators who are underqualified to think for themselves.

working on coining cool phrases and being quoted by someone someday

Time is just a patina. Years accumulate on a person like kitchen grime on a neglected drinking glass left out on a high shelf, the kind where dust mixes with bits of oil and becomes a sticky, dirty mess.

Brothers always come first

Top 5 songs from Your Favorite Weapon by Brand New (Which nobody who likes Brand New probably listens to anymore, but they should)

1. Logan to Government Center (Which has the added benefit of at least having a Boston-related title)
2. Seventy Times Seven
3. Magazines
4. Soco Amaretto Lime
5. Failure By Design

Honorable mention to Secondary, Last Chance to Lose Your Keys, Jude Law and A Semester Abroad, Sudden Death in Carolina, and Mix Tape.

Not an easy list to make. Also, there was absolutely no reason to make this list! But I did it anyway! That's how committed I am.

The Last Lie I Told

I know it was you, Manny. You broke my heart

You broke my heart.

Maybe we could start a little independent repretory movie house or somethin

The weather is getting good. More than anything else, that really changes my mood. Everything about life is much easier when it's not freezing cold outside and when you don't have to worry about your car spinning out in a snowstorm. I for one think that New England is much prettier in the spring than in the fall, when people take "foliage tours". Isn't bright green better to look at than brown and yellow?

Grow Fins, Turkey

Manny did steroids? This must be a joke. That's probably the last name I would have expected to hear. Also, I have a hard time believing the excuse that the alleged Human chorionic gonadotropin was prescribed by the good old family doctor. What, Manny couldn't get pregnant? Maybe that's because he lacks a uterus. Take all the fertility drugs you want, you still won't end up with a bun in the oven.

Yes, I am declaring Manny guilty based on little or no evidence. He's guilty. The question is, why? I don't care to explore that in this space. I'm a bad blogger. So sue me. It's a blog. It means very little.

I haven't read this yet, but Simmons is always good.

State of the Union

Reggie Miller is growing on me; Dennis Eckersley the opposite.

I can see by your face that something's not the same

Saves the Day just was not the same. It's hard to put my finger on what went wrong with the set. The lack of David Soloway was huge. I don't think the new guitarist really fits with the vibe of the band, not to mention the fact that he didn't know most of the guitar parts on the songs. A lot of the time he would just let his guitar hang, sometimes he would sort of casually strum. This is not the Saves the Day that I love.
The sound wasn't great, but it was more than that. The set list wasn't great, but really that wasn't it either. It was something unquantifiable about the way they played. To tell you the truth, it made me sad. Maybe they just lost it. Maybe the regular lineup shuffling took its toll, finally. Maybe Dave was the one piece they couldn't do without. I don't know what it was, but for now, it will keep me away from the live shows. I'm gonna hibernate with the old stuff, the good stuff, before they lost it, whatever it is.

me vs. maradona vs. elvis

Right now I'm listening to the songs that I listened to all winter, when I was working at the factory and things were kind of tough for me. I didn't like my job that much, felt like it was dead end, felt like I wasn't getting anywhere, and it was cold as heck outside and just overall kind of a bad time. That's why it's actually a little sad to hear these songs. These songs meant a lot to me during the winter. I listened to them when I was home from work, I knew all the words, I sang them to myself during work hours, and they just meant the world to me.

It's different now. I have a good job, I'm in a good place, the weather is warm, and things are just going swimmingly. It's sort of an embarrassment of riches, to be honest. I feel sorry for that edition of me from the winter in a way. If he could see what's going on now in our life, new beginnings, new jobs, new feelings that just feel like they have some promise, like they could lead somewhere, he would be so happy. He didn't have those things, he was stuck. And when I remember these songs and how important they were to me during that tough spot, it hurts. I want to go back there and tell myself that things are going to be so bright soon. Just stick it out.